


A Good Dog Doesn’t Bark

by deepestfathoms



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Collars, Courtney!Anne, Dehumanization, Foster Care, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, i don’t even ship Aralyn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24264091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepestfathoms/pseuds/deepestfathoms
Summary: After five years of marriage, Aragon and Anne finally decide to have a child. However, they get more than they bargained for when they go to pick up their little girl from her current placement.(OR: The most grueling foster AU in the SIX fandom because I strive to be better than all of them)
Relationships: Anne Boleyn/Catherine of Aragon
Comments: 1
Kudos: 49





	A Good Dog Doesn’t Bark

**Author's Note:**

> Read Anne as Courtney!Anne, not Millie!Anne

Jane couldn’t understand the idea of fostering.

“I mean, yes, it’s a good thing to do,” She had said over tea. “But wouldn’t you rather have a baby come from your body? You just won’t have the same connection with a foster child…”

Anne and Aragon gave her an unamused look. She continued her mantra with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Plus!” She went on. “You may have to give them up! What if they’re terrible? Or you can’t raise them? Or if their parents want them back? Are you ready to deal with that guilt?” She stirred her tea calmly. “I’m just saying that maybe you two should just try for a moment first.”

“We’re lesbians, Jane.” Aragon deadpanned.

“I meant sperm implants.” Jane specified, slightly ruffled. “That’s what I did to have Kat!”

Aragon wrinkled her nose at the through. Anne snorted.

“No way.” They both said.

“Your loss.” Jane shrugged.

Despite their friend’s very helpful commentary, Anne and Aragon went on with their idea of fostering and went to an adoption fair hosted by the county foster program. There, they met a young eleven year old girl with gnarled blonde-brown hair, storm grey eyes, and a knack for drawing. Instantly, they both fell in love with her shyness and lamb-like appearance.

They had to have her.

“Kinda feels like we’re picking a puppy from a kennel,” Aragon admitted as Anne was driving them both to the house where they would retrieve their new daughter.

Anne has just smiled at her comfortingly, but even she had to admit it kind of did feel like that. Especially when they eventually got to their soon-to-be-daughter’s current placement.

“No, no, no, NO!!” A deep, rough voice roared. “You absolute IDIOT! You would have been dead! Do it again!”

That’s the first thing they heard when she stepped out of the car, then a series of grass-padded footsteps, the clanging of metal, and then a cacophony of crashes and rattles.

“Stop holding back!” The voice snapped. “Where’s that little monster I saw when I first got you?”

“I-I don’t know!” A second voice squeaked, similar to their girl’s. “Dormant? Sleeping? Hibernating? I learned that bears often hibernate, so if it’s supposed to be a bear— OW!!!” There was a howl of pain. “You said hair pulling was cheating!”

“I’m your guardian and teacher. Nothing I do is cheating! Now do it again or so help me—”

“Okay! Okay!”

There was another scampering or footsteps, metal hitting against metal, the strain and creak of ropes, and subtle harsh breaths and whimpers.

“There,” The younger voice panted. “Was that-” A squeal of pain, followed by a heavy thud up against what was presumably the fence. “Owww…! I-I wasn’t—” Another noise, this one the horrible sound of something whipping down against a skull. “Ow! Ow! Ow! Stop! I’m not ready!”

“USELESS!” The older voice bellowed. “Nobody is going to wait for you in a fight! SO STOP WHINING AND FIGHT BACK!!”

It was madness. Pure madness. And Aragon and Anne couldn’t just stand there and listen to it anymore.

They stormed through the backyard gate and stared in horror at the obstacle course set before them- thick nylon ropes hanging from old, gnarled trees overgrown around the yard; a steep, splintered wooden ramp; large, heavy tires set up in rows; deep trenches of muddy water; even what looked to be a board full of upturned nails placed on the ground. Most of the grass was dead and seemed to be stained a permanent shade of red. The worst thing, however, was the twisted older woman standing above a shuddering child with a bamboo pole in her hands. When she noticed the couple goggling at her, she didn’t look horrified to be caught, rather just annoyed. She prodded the child at her feet roughly in the shoulder.

“Get up.” She spat, then finally turned to address the visitors. “What?”

“What the fuck,” Aragon said first. “What the fuck is wrong with—”

Anne covered her mouth, but her wife struggled and even bit her in her attempt to keep scolding. The woman with the pole looks very amused.

“We’re here to get Joan.” Anne said, still attempting to wrangle up Aragon. “Umm… What is this place and, yes, what is going on?”

The woman raised her nose, examining the two of them.

“This is the Puppy Mill.” She said, and those words sent snarls of ice cold horror curling through Aragon and Anne’s stomachs. “Where the…unwanted children go. Or are born. I get a lot of knocked up teenagers.”

She cast a disgusted look over to a young pregnant girl sitting on the porch. The girl glared right back, and that’s when Anne and Aragon realized that they were surrounded by kids. Kids ranging from ages five to seventeen it seemed, either sitting on the roof or in trees or on the porch or watching from the windows inside. They were all dressed in rags, had their hair done in tangled messes, looked absolutely filthy, and had collars fastened around their necks. It made Anne want to cry and Aragon want to rampage.

“What the fuck,” Aragon muttered again.

“Who did you say you wanted again?” The woman asked. “My name is simply Wolf, by the way. Don’t wear it out.”

“Joan.” Anne repeated, trying to keep back a tremble in her voice. The smell of blood, piss, and sweat were swarming her senses.

“Joan…” Wolf looked around the backyard, tapping her chin. “Don’t think I have a Joan.”

“That would be me,” Gurgled the child at her feet. Wolf scowled down at her. Aragon and Anne realized she, too, had a thick, metal collar latched around her neck.

A shock collar.

“Oh. Right.” Wolf oozed. “I thought I told you to get up, Pit Bull.”

“Pit Bull?” Anne echoed.

“We don’t use real names here. For example, the six year old that just took your wallet without you knowing is Yorkie.”

“What?!” Anne whirled around to find that her wallet was, in fact, missing from her back pocket and now resided in the greedy little hands of a dirty, mud-smelling six year old boy with amber eyes. He had been going through it with his grimy fingers up until he was caught and then actually hunched over, bared his stubby teeth, and growled like a dog. Wolf laughed loudly.

“That’s my pup!” She cheered. She held out her hand and Yorkie immediately scampered over, pressing his head into it eagerly. She stroked his dusty hair gently. “Alright, now give this lady back her things. You’ll be rewarded for your thievery after this.”

Yorkie beamed. He gave Anne back her wallet and stuck out his tongue at her before skittering away to probably brag to his friends about what he had done.

“See. That’s what you should be like.” Wolf said to Joan, prodding her in the cheek with the end of her pole. “Why did you tell them your name? You know why don’t use those.”

“I’m sorry,” Joan whispered. She failed at getting up, still reeling from when she had been hit on the head, and just slumped to the ground in a woeful puddle, moaning pitifully.

“Why can’t she use her name?” Aragon hissed.

“And why do you call her Pit Bull?” Anne added.

“Because,” Wolf smirked wickedly with all her teeth. “Pit Bulls are killers, just like this little one.”

Black ice shot through Aragon and Anne’s veins. Darkness seemed to be rushing into their vision, sucking all their breath away. It was like the entire atmosphere was pressing down on them.

“What?” Anne whispered.

“You’re lying!” Aragon snarled.

“Tell that to the corpses of her parents she beat to death,” Wolf said smoothly. “She’s a little monster. My perfect little monster. If she can just get her training drills down.” She shot Joan a glare. “But she isn’t for sale. Not that you would want such a creature after hearing what it’s done.”

“No,” Anne shook her head. “We’re taking her. We have forms.”

Aragon fished them out of her purse and thrust them into Wolf’s hands. Wolf sighed, rolled her eyes, but scanned over the documents. She occasionally glances at Joan and then the couple as she was reading.

“Hm.” She eventually said. “I suppose you are right.” She suddenly snapped her head downward and jabbed the end of the pole in between Joan’s shoulder blades. It made Aragon jolt forward slightly, hands outstretched and twitching. She gave the woman an entertained look, then turned her attention back to the child on the ground. “Get up, beast. Go gather your things. You’re out of here.”

“B-but—” Joan tried to protest.

“NOW!”

Wolf grabbed Joan by the collar and yanked her to her feet, then shoved her roughly to the back door. The girl uselessly keeled over into the grass immediately, but managed to scramble inside.

“Worthless,” Wolf hissed under her breath.

“We can call the police.” Aragon warned dangerously. Her protectiveness for the child seemed to have only increased, despite the alleged news of murder.

“You can try.” Wolf said. “But it won’t do you any good. Nothing ever happens.”

“You’re hurting these children!” Aragon cried.

Laughter rang out through the entire backyard- the children were laughing.

“Awww, the rich lady thinks we have it bad!” One boy in a tree chortled.

“Probably because she’s had everything handed to her on a silver platter!” Another chimed in.

“Ohhh, look at me! I have money and can pay my mortgage! I need to barge into everyone’s lives and think I have to fix it!” A third mocked, causing a roar of giggles. Aragon suddenly felt a lot less pity for all these kids except her girl.

“She’s acting this way because Pit Bull is a weak little bitch,” Said the pregnant girl on the porch.

“Yeah!” A seven year old joined in. “Pit Bull is making us look bad!”

It was that moment that Joan came back outside holding a small bag full of her belongings. She cowered under the looks she got and scampered over to the three adults. Her shoulders are hunched around her neck and she’s trembling, Anne and Aragon realize.

“Traitor!” A kid on a rickety tree branch shouted.

“Don’t come back here!” Another yelled.

“We don’t want you!” A third joined in.

“And neither do they!” The second added. “They’re just pitying you, Pittie! But they’ll throw you away soon!”

“Try not to kill them, too!” Bellowed a cruel fourth kid.

By that time, Joan was clearly fighting off a wave of tears.

“We’re leaving now.” Aragon snarled, glaring at Wolf and then all the children in the backyard. “God save you.”

Screeches of laughter filled the yard as the couple and their new foster daughter walked to the gate. They could hear the kids mocking Aragon’s words as they went, and Aragon somehow managed to keep from storming back over and pummeling all of them.

“Are you okay?” Anne asked Joan once they got to the car.

Joan looked down at her feet. “Yeah…”

Anne and Aragon exchanged worried looks, but didn’t try to prod. They just helped Joan into the car and began to return home.

The drive smelled like blood.

———

Joan was asleep when they got to the house—or maybe she was just unconscious. Anne and Aragon didn’t know. And they were not sure if they wanted to.

Anne grabbed the bag while Aragon carefully scooped up the child, who was alarmingly light. She was absolutely tiny too, even for an eleven year old. That was exactly why she barked at her wife to call her doctor friend to come do check a check up on the girl.

“They’re just the kind of injuries you would expect from an experience like this,” Maggie was saying as she returned from the child’s bedroom, removing the stethoscope from around her neck in a far too professional manner for what Aragon or Anne was used to. “Even though I’m not technically working right now, I still have to follow confidentiality agreements, so I can’t tell you the extent of her injuries, but she’s had a rough time. From what I’ve seen, it appears as though she was thrown into a wall and hit her head more than once; she’s got a few bruises, a bad ankle, and a couple of nasty broken ribs.” She concluded, setting down her medical kit on the coffee table. “All-in-all, she’s in pretty bad shape, but nothing seems critical. Speaking optimistically, she ought to make a full recovery.“

The reaction to his proclamation was stunned silence as Anne and Aragon stared at her in disbelief. She looked back in confusion.

“What?”

“There is no way that’s all that happened to her!” Aragon finally exclaimed explosively, halting her agitated pacing by the flat’s window. “When we went to her placement she had been hit in the head with a pole, I’m pretty sure there was blood everywhere, there was absolutely no hygiene there so it’s peak conditions for infections, and all you have to give me is a few bruises? Mother Mary above, you are a doctor, aren’t you? Why don’t you just go fix her up and—”

“Training to be a doctor.” Anne cut in quietly, but her wife didn’t hear her.

“And we are her PARENTS now! We deserve to know what’s wrong with—”

“I think what Catalina is trying to say,” Anne finally took charge, and Maggie shot her a grateful look. “Is that you’re withholding important information from us, Mags, because a girl with the home we saw must have sustained much worse injuries than you’re explaining. So please, enlighten us.”

Aragon grumbled to herself before tossing herself down on the couch and downing an entire glass of vodka in one go.

Maggie, nervous, shuffles her feet and then sighed in defeat. She sat down on the arm of the couch.

“Alright, so basically, beside the bruises, cuts, sprained ankle, and bumps on the head, you’re looking at a girl who’s probably been severely abused throughout her entire life.” She said reluctantly, but bluntly, meeting eyes seriously with each of them in turn. “Not just physically, either. I really— I shouldn’t be telling you any of this; legally I can’t. All I can say is that what happened to her today wasn’t the first time. It’ll take about a month and a half for all of her external injuries to heal completely, but with physical evidence of her history…the emotional toll is going to be huge.”

Anne set a hand on Aragon’s shoulder when she sensed her wife was getting worked up, but Aragon still got herself to her feet and marched to Joan’s new room. Maggie watched her good helplessly, then turned back to Anne.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered. “That I can’t be more helpful. She‘s right— I’m a doctor. I should be—”

“Shh,” Anne took one of her friend’s hands and rubbed the knuckles comfortingly. “It’s alright. You did more than enough.”

Maggie smiled at her, then got up and began to gather her things. She left some amoxicillin, antiseptic, extra bandages and gauze on the table.

“Just in case.” She said.

“Do you just carry this stuff around?” Anne asked, walking over and picking up the amoxicillin.

Maggie giggled. “Never know when you might need some strong painkillers!” She waved. “Call me if you need anything, alright?”

“Will do,” Anne nodded. “Thank you!”

With that, Maggie is gone. Anne can now hear Aragon cooing in the extra bedroom, so she takes the amoxicillin and a glass of water, and then walks over to the room. Inside, she finds her wife perched on the edge of the bed, stroking Joan’s hair, who is awake, but dazed.

“You took me away,” Joan whispered.

“That’s right.” Aragon said softly. “You’re safe now.”

Joan’s pale face crumbled. “Don’t make me go back there. Please. Please, don’t wanna go back…!”

Anne’s heart broke as she watched this. Aragon seemed to feel the same thing, because she wrapped Joan in her arms and pulled the tiny child into a tender embrace. The little girl immediately clung back, crying into the woman’s chest.

“We’ll never send you back.” Aragon promised her. “You’re our girl now. Our daughter.”

“That’s right,” Anne nodded, walking over. “We’ll take care of you, Joan.”

Joan looked up at them, grey eyes sparkling with tears. Anne and Aragon both reach out to wipe away the streams on each cheek.

“Thank you,” She whispered. She rested her head back on Aragon’s chest, taking steady breaths.

“Hey,” Anne said. “I know! Why don’t I go run you a nice hot bath while Catalina makes us some dinner? Then we can watch a movie! Our first family movie!”

Joan actually smiled, and it was such a beautiful thing to see.

“We never got to take hot baths,” She whispered. “Or watch movies, unless we were really, really good.” She looked up at the two women. “Can I really do that?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Aragon said. “This is your home now.”

Joan gave another small, but giddy smile and hid her face in Aragon’s chest to hide her blush. Anne ruffled her hair affectionately and then got up to go run a bath in the bathroom connected to the room. Aragon continued to rock Joan in her arms until the water was ready.

—

The room smelled like apples. Not the fresh, crisp kind from the ageing trees in the orchard, but the sweet, faintly chemical scent of apple flavored products. It’s the scent of bath bombs and body wash and, in this case, no tears baby shampoo.

Something Pit Bull had never smelled before.

No-

Not Pit Bull.

She wasn’t-

She was-

She wasn’t-

She was-

She didn’t know who she was anymore.

She splayed her hands open and stared down at them, remembering the way hot, slick blood slid between her fingers. Remembered the chill of the fire stoker’s metal and the smoothness of the lamp’s body. Remembered the way they cradled her brother’s head, which was wrung backwards, neck snapped like a baby bird’s. Remembered how they clawed at His face when he tried to pin her down and remove her clothes.

His face. Him. Her daddy.

And her mummy had watched, face blank, not caring about her husband’s choice to punish their daughter. But she did care when their pathetic child reached back, grabbed a nearby screwdriver daddy had been using earlier that day, and drove it deep into daddy’s eyeball.

Those hands travel up and delicately touch the metal collar fastened tightly around her neck. Her name is engraved on the front- “Pit Bull.”

That’s her name. Not Joan. Who is Joan?

Joan was dead.

Pit Bull desperately roused herself from her reverie when she felt the lashing tongue of the belt across her shoulders and back, the sting of glass edging itself sneakily into her skin. She could see daddy again, his daunting figure towering over her seven-year-old self like some sort of terrifying giant.

Her head snapped up and she lost her will to panic when she noticed something. She was looking in a mirror.

She had not seen her reflection in a long time, since Wolf didn’t like anyone becoming too vain, so she would breaks all the mirrors or cover them up. Now, gazing at her petrified eyes, shrunken lips, and bruised cheek and jawbones, she was shocked by her defeated appearance. Her shape had held out well—she had lost more weight than she had imagined, but at least her her thick, blonde-burnished hair- brown creeping back in at the roots- seemed to be preserved. However, the expression in her own eyes frightened her. They were so blank, so _dead_ —what had happened to her?

Her musing was interrupted by the low growl of her stomach. She needed food, badly. But where could she find some? This was those ladies’ apartment- ladies who were, in all likelihood, going to punish her severely if she took anything that was offered to her. She was used to the punishment—that was the way it was; she wasn’t supposed to exist. She wasn’t worthy of being alive, so it was natural that she should suffer some sort of consequence for wasting useful air. But she was hungry, and she wanted to at least choke a small portion of food down before the abuse began again. Even if the two women were nice, she couldn’t trust them. She couldn’t believe she let one of them hold her. She even cried in front of them!

She wouldn’t dare to ask for any; that would only ensure further deprivation. Wolf’s words, not so long ago spoken, echoed through her head— _if you ask, the answer is no._

It wasn’t that she particularly enjoyed living to meet the brutal woman’s standards. It was only that she had been forced to learn in order to survive, and even now, after being allegedly set free, her mind and body still clung to that way of living. How could it not? It wasn’t as though she had ever known any differently.

She would wait until they came to her, and then, hopefully while they were distracted, she would eat as much as possible before the beating came. She only hoped that it would not be too painful; she didn’t want to throw it back up.

Pit Bull eventually peeled off her clothing and grimaced at her body’s state- tight blemishes decorating her body from her thighs to her neck, mottling her pale skin various sickly shades of black and navy and violet and mauve. Her collarbone was bruised all across, while fingerprints showed clearly around the tendons in her neck. Limitless scars in varying degrees of recovery were scattered like pine needles across the expanse of her arms, shoulders, wrists, back, and thighs. Angry red and deep blue marks mar the expanse of her pale back.

Wolf so badly wanted to make her the monster she was believed to be. And looking at how maimed she was, she was starting to believe that she truly was a creature of nightmares.

———

After an hour of being in the bathroom, Joan eventually wandered out in the dining room, bleary-eyed and hair dripping. Aragon smiled warmly at her from the kitchen and Anne went over to greet her.

“Have a nice bath, darling?” She asked the little girl, who blushed shyly at the pet name.

“Yes ma’am.” Joan whispered, keeping her head dipped low.

“We’re having lasagna.” Aragon told her. “Do you like lasagna?”

“I’ve never had it before,” Joan admitted. “Well- Maybe once. A long time ago.”

Anger flashed in Aragon’s eyes, and Joan flinched away. Anne set a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Wanna meet our cat?”

Joan’s eyes lit up. “You have a cat?”

Anne nodded and led her over to a fluffy white and brown ragamuffin sleeping on the couch. Its ears twitched and blinked big blue eyes at them when they approached.

“This is Speed Demon.” Anne said proudly. Joan giggled at the name, making her heart swell with even more love for this little one.

“He’s so pretty!” Joan exclaimed. She gently pet the cat, who immediately pounced on her hand. She laughed again.

“He’s evil.” Anne grinned.

“I like him,” Joan said. “Can he watch the movie with us?”

“Of course!” Anne said. She continued to watch the child play with Speed Demon until she abruptly stopped and touched the collar around her neck. “Joan? Sweetie?”

Joan turned to her. “Take it off.”

“What?”

“Take it off.” Joan whispered this time. “My collar. Take it off. Please.”

Anne nodded. Carefully, she reached out and unlocked the metal collar around the girl’s neck. She set it to the side and then looked back at Joan.

The real Joan.

This entire time, Pit Bull had been wearing the girl’s skin like a coat, but now with the collar removed, Anne could see that Joan was free.

Free.

_Her Joan._

**_Her daughter._ **


End file.
